


Housewolf

by alisvolatpropiis



Series: Sterek: PWP [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, ChestHair!Derek, Comeplay, Derek Loves Stiles, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Derek will always have a full beard and chest hair because reasons, Dirty Talk, Domestic Derek and Stiles, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, I Blame Tumblr, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Masturbation, POV Stiles, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rebuilt Hale House, Stiles Loves Derek, Stiles loves snapchat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:30:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisvolatpropiis/pseuds/alisvolatpropiis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living with Derek is <em>awesome</em>. Stiles keeps saying that, keeps telling everyone, in every way possible, just how <em>awesome </em>it is. He doesn’t really care how obnoxious his friends think he’s being until both Scott and Lydia ban him from contacting them until further notice – unless someone’s in mortal peril, of course. <em>And no, Stiles</em>, Lydia's last text had said, <em>dying of thirst for Derek's cock while he bakes you cookies does not count as mortal peril</em>. Ouch. And, kinda hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Housewolf

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by[ this amazing edit](http://redandbluesterek.tumblr.com/post/83651088982/stiles-underestimate-dereks-hearing-ability-and) by redandblusterek.

Living with Derek is _awesome_. Stiles keeps saying that, keeps telling everyone, in every way possible, just how _awesome_ it is. He doesn’t really care how obnoxious his friends think he’s being until both Scott and Lydia ban him from contacting them until further notice – unless someone’s in mortal peril, of course. _And no, Stiles_ , Lydia's last text had said, _dying of thirst for Derek's cock while he bakes you cookies does not count as mortal peril_. Ouch. And, kinda hot. 

All for snapchatting just a few dozen selfies of his stupidly grinning face, usually blurry and too close, Derek in the background doing something adorably domestic: brushing his fangs [housewolf <3 dntl hygiene]; flipping pancakes [housewolf + pancakes = happy Stiles]; building raised garden beds in the backyard [gonna plant some housewolf seed]; falling asleep while watching TV [not even 9pm housewolf is so lame]; shirtless, pulling the covers back on the bed [fun sexy time 4 me #housewolf]…that might have been the one that sent Scott over the edge. 

“You’re pouting,” Derek says, stripping off his underwear and tossing Stiles, also naked, his favorite pillow.

“I’ve been banned from contacting both of my best friends because I love you so much. You’re welcome.” He’s trying to keep the indignation in his voice, but…naked Derek.

“I told you to stop snatch chatting them every five minutes,” Derek replies, landing on his side of the bed with a heavy thud, reaching for Stiles’ wrist and pulling him down to lie against him.

“Snap, Derek. It’s _snap_ chat. I know you that you know that.”

“Whatever. I don’t understand any of it,” Derek sighs, likes he’s an actual old person or something.

“Yeah, right. I’m on to you, you fake Luddite. Don’t think I didn’t see you on the Weather Whiskers app yesterday.”

“You know,” Derek continues as if Stiles hadn’t said anything at all, a sure sign that he’s totally right. “If you really want to get back at Lydia, you can send her the picture I took of her housewarming gift.”

His grin is positively devious, clearly loving the wide-eyed, open-mouthed look of shock Stiles knows he’s wearing. “You…you took a picture of the mirror?” he finally manages to croak out, surprise starting to give way to arousal with record speed.

“ _Before_ I cleaned it up,” Derek says, as if Stiles needed further explanation of what _exactly_ Derek took a picture of.

“Okay, now I really need to text my friends so I can tell them what a kinky motherfucker I just moved in with.”

“Ha ha,” Derek says. Like, he actually says the words, _ha ha_ , to _mock_ him.

“Have you looked at it since,” Stiles asks, very intrigued. “That’s why you took a picture of it, right? So you could get off while looking at it?” The thought of Derek touching himself while looking at a picture of that mirror…wow. That’s a _nice_ thought.

Derek rolls his eyes and pulls him closer and reaches down to grab Stiles’ thigh, hitching it up around his hip to slot them together. “I took a picture of it because it’s a beautiful memory of my mate,” he says in that way he has that sort of sounds like he’s joking, but that Stiles knows is sincere. “And,” Derek continues, smile going naughty again, “to get off on it. Maybe I already have…maybe last night when you were out late with Scott and Kira and I missed you.”

Stiles doesn’t really know what to do with how incredibly hot _and_ sweet that is, so he just smiles and kisses Derek’s neck the way he likes. “Kinky motherfucker,” he says again.

“Never denied it. Are you saying you don’t jack off anymore, now that we’re living together? I find that hard to believe.”

Stiles ignores the insult to his honor and thinks back over the last two weeks of living with Derek. “Maybe once or twice, out of habit, in the shower? I don’t know, we’ve been fucking like crazy. You should know. You’re there.”

“You’re hilarious.”

Derek is running his hands in slow, soothing lines up and down his back, shivers of pleasure that spark from his fingers and burn through Stiles’ skin. “I guess,” he adds after a few seconds of just enjoying the bliss of Derek’s hands on him,“that I just spent so much time before we were together jacking off and thinking about you, that now that I have the real thing it seems…boring? Empty? Derek-less and therefore not very fun?”

Derek smiles and kisses him on the forehead. “I love you, too.”

They lie there for a moment, relaxing into the simple joy of being able to touch each other whenever they want, forever. Eventually, Derek’s hands get more purposeful, each feather-light stroke of his fingers slowly drifting closer to his ass, and then his hardening cock. “Tell me about it,” he says quietly against Stiles’ collarbone.

“Tell you what, big guy?”

“How you used to get off thinking about me, before we were together. Tell me.” He has that dark glint in his eyes and the slight rasp in his voice that sounds like a request but Stiles knows full well it’s a command. Derek’s cock is starting to show quite a bit of interest in things, nudging insistently against Stiles’ stomach.

“You want to know what my fantasies were? All the different ways I imagined you fucking me? Or do you want to know how I used to fuck myself, wishing I was riding your cock?” He’s breathing heavily into Derek’s ear as he speaks, his own hands joining the party, fingers twirling in Derek’s chest hair before sliding down to tease at the flat plane of muscle that leads to his eager dick.

It has its intended effect. Derek growls and rolls them across the bed until he’s got Stiles on his back, arms pinned above his head. He starts kissing a slow line down his torso, lips full and wet and hot on his cool skin, beard tickling him just enough to make him squirm a little bit, much to Derek's delight, who doesn’t say anything until he’s down at his hip. “Everything. All of it. Whatever you want to tell me.” He sounds almost needy for it, like he needs reassurance that Stiles has always wanted him, will always want him.

“Well,” Stiles says, mind racing with possibilities and distracted by Derek’s blunt human teeth worrying a mark on the inside of his thigh. “There was this one time, I was actually thinking about it a couple of days ago when I got home from the store and you were doing push ups on the porch?”

Derek looks up at him from under his pretty lashes. “Oh yeah? Did you used to have a fantasy of fucking on my porch while I was working out?”

“Not just a fantasy dude, a reality. Well, practically a reality.”

Derek looks up, raising his eyebrows in question. He sets a gentle kiss to the head of his cock before sliding back up the bed, rolling them back on their sides, his eyes boring into Stiles’. “Tell me,” he demands again.

Stiles starts moving his hands across Derek's skin slowly, just teasing him with the tips of his fingers. “It was junior year, not long after that rogue omega came through town. I was with my dad, driving back from Sacramento, in the cruiser, and he got a call that a rabid mountain lion had been spotted in the preserve. He drove here – to your property, to park before hiking out to meet up with a couple of his deputies who were coming in from other parts of the preserve. You were living at the loft by then, so we figured the house was empty. My dad made me stay in the cruiser.”

Derek hums against his neck, biting slightly. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” he laughs against his hair. “This is so embarrassing.” He hasn’t told anyone, not Scott or even Lydia, the one person who he had confided in about his feelings for Derek during those tortuous high school years.

He _still_ feels weird riding in the cruiser.

Derek doesn’t say anything, clearly confident that Stiles will keep talking, hands gently cupping his ass and pulling him closer. “You know how the cruiser has those extra big review mirrors?”

Derek finally speaks. “Another mirror?” His laugh is a hot rush of air against Stiles’ shoulder.

“Purely coincidence,” Stiles answers with his own laugh. “Although this does suggest that maybe mirrors are a more important part of our sex life than we thought? I wonder if katroptroniphilia is related to narcissism. We should look into that.”

“Stiles.” Derek’s warning-but-playful growl refocuses him.

“Okay, okay. No more distractions. I was bored...thinking you about, because I'm always thinking about you…I had already texted Scott to give him a heads up about the mountain lion-slash-omega situation, and my phone was about to die and I had already finished the only book I had with me. So I was just sitting there, in the cruiser facing away from the house, and then, in the review mirror, I saw you.”

“Oh, yeah?” Derek purrs encouragingly. Stiles twists away to retrieve lube from the nightstand, slicking his hand up before returning it to Derek’s cock. He’s rewarded with a deep groan of pleasure from his mate, making him smile as he watches Derek’s eyes flutter shut.

“I figured that Scott had given you a heads up about the mountain lion, which is why you didn’t seem to care about the cruiser in your driveway. You were shirtless – you had a real shirtlessness problem in those days, you know that? Is that because you wanted everyone to see how much work you put into manscaping your chest?”

Derek’s growl is almost totally real this time, making Stiles cackle. “Oh, Sourwolf. It’s so easy to push your buttons.”

“Stiles,” he says again, practically a whimper, dick leaking in Stiles’ hand.

“Okay, okay, fine. I’ll finish my story. Just trying to level the playing field a bit here, let us both be embarrassed. Anyways, you were shirtless, just wearing black jeans, and you were all sweaty like you had been running. I ducked down in the seat when I saw you, but I could still see you in the review mirror. It was magical, really, how perfect the angle was. You started doing pull-ups on the porch.”

Stiles slots his hips further into Derek’s and he wraps his hands around both of their cocks, squeezing gently as strokes them up and down. He’s quiet for a minute, focusing only on the heat of Derek’s breath against his skin, the way he’s mumbling incoherently into the hollow of Stiles’ throat, the thrilling slick slide of their cocks.

“I got hard immediately,” he breathes, voice getting husky. “You always did that to me then, do that to me know. I’ll just look at you and get so overwhelmed with how beautiful you are, how unbelievably sexy, and fuck, Derek. I just want you, all the time. You were so sweaty, and god, _rippling_ like a fucking wet dream come to life, and when you turned your back towards me I could see, even from that distance in the reflection, just how muscular and strong you were, and god, Derek, you know what that does to me. I started thinking about touching you, about licking the sweat off your abs. About what it might feel like to have all that muscle over me, holding me down while you fucked me.”

They both groan then, panting lightly. Stiles is starting to get distracted by the pleasure in his own dick, so he shifts, lets go of himself so he can focus on taking care of Derek. His hands move faster, with more purpose. “I put my hand down my pants, fuck I was so hard. I didn’t have any lube or anything, so I just spit in my hand and started jerking hard. It almost hurt, but it felt so good, knowing you were so close, actually looking at you instead of just imagining you while I fucked up into my fist. I knew my dad or one the deputies could walk up and see me any time, but I didn’t care. I thought that was going to be the closest I’d ever get to being with you, jacking off in the fucking cruiser while watching you in the goddamn mirror. Worth the risk.”

Derek is hitching his hips now, jerky little thrusts into Stiles’ fists. “God, it felt so good, I knew I was going to come quick. I was going to try to keep it in my pants, but you got me so hot, so damn hard, I pulled myself out, going so hard and fast while you did your damn pushups, trying not to make any noise. I knew you couldn’t hear me, didn’t know I was there, but I thought about you finding me, about you getting hard and offering to help me finish.”

“Tell me,” Derek pants roughly into his ear, the snap of his hips getting quicker, more urgent. Stiles feels his own cock leaking, and he thrusts back against Derek, spreading his precome across his belly. “Tell me how you came,” Derek grunts, so close to his own orgasm.

Stiles is fisting his cock rapidly now, both hands squeezing and sliding, pausing for just a second so his thumbs can dance around the head, teasing his wet slit. “Fuck, Derek…I imagined your mouth…imagined you growling and ripping the damn door off and falling to your knees to take me into your mouth…I came so hard, thinking about coming on that fucking mouth of yours.”

Derek’s whining moan means he’s close, so close, so Stiles squeezes him just so, one hand falling to cradle his heavy balls. “I tried to catch my come, but there was no way…it was too good, I was too excited…you were right there, so beautiful…I fucking came all over the inside of the cruiser door, trying not to scream your name too loudly.”

Even now, years later, Stiles feels his cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory. Hot as it was, secretly getting off to Derek like that, it doesn’t change the fact that he fucking blew his load all over his dad’s work car. Not his proudest moment as a son. Or, as like, a person. 

But Stiles can’t think about that too much at the moment because Derek is coming, not screaming Stiles’ name, but moaning it pretty loudly, a whimpered prayer. He thrusts as Stiles strokes him through it, ropes of blistering come painting Stiles’ stomach and chest.

Stiles leans back in satisfaction, pride coursing through him at the fucked-out look of bliss that softens Derek’s features, body buzzing with excitement and need, never feeling so wanted, so cared for, so owned in the very best way, as when he’s covered in his mate’s come.

Derek pounces him, limbs sex-loose and uncoordinated like they always are right after he comes, an uncharacteristic lack of physical grace that only Stiles gets to see. He pins him on his back again and returns his ministrations to Stiles’ chest, this time to lick the come from him. Derek hums in pleasure like he always when he does this, like his come on Stiles’ skin is the best thing he’s ever tasted.

When he’s cleaned him to his liking, he moves farther down the bed until he’s lying on his stomach in the cradle of Stiles’ thighs. Derek hooks his arms under his ass, holding him still and angling his hips up, letting his cock fall against his lips, mouth not yet open enough to take him in. He looks up at Stiles, who meets his gaze and is once again breathless at Derek's beauty, his goodness, his tender heart. He's so perfect and so much more than Stiles ever thought he would have, it nearly makes him weep with gratitude. His hand falls to Derek’s head, lightly running his long fingers through his hair before moving down to cradle his perfectly-bearded jaw. “Love you, Housewolf,” he whispers.

Derek smiles before finally swallowing him down in one easy, practiced move, his mouth hot and thick with his own come, coating Stiles’ cock as he sucks, spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth into his beard. It’s messy and eager and perfect, the way Derek works his dick like he’s starving for it. Stiles is close, and Derek knows it, teases him a bit more before he sucks him all the way down again, throat working, demanding.

He comes with a hard thrust up into Derek’s mouth, knowing he can take it, that he wants it. No matter how times he feels Derek’s talented throat flutter around the head of his cock when he spasms and empties himself there, Stiles will always gasp in shock at how good it feels. His body goes limp with it, shuddering and quaking in hot bursts of shimmering pleasure as Derek sucks every last bit of come from his flushed cock.

“Fuck me,” Stiles pants.

“In the morning,” Derek replies, kissing a line up his side, moving back up to lie next to him. “Sleep first.”

~*~

Stiles is just about to fall asleep, sex-heavy limbs curled languidly towards his mate, when Derek speaks softly against his pillow. “I heard you, you know."

“Whadya say, Sourwolf,”” Stiles mumbles, barely opening his eyes.

“In the cruiser. I heard you.”

It takes a second for Stiles to fully comprehend Derek’s meaning, eyes flying open when he does. “You heard me? You knew? Like, the whole time? Like when it was happening, you _knew_?”

“Babe, come on. Werewolf senses.” Derek wiggles into the mattress a little bit, as if he’s just trying to get comfortable before sleep, as if he didn’t just drop a humiliation bomb on his lover.

“But…I was quiet! And far enough away…come on! Really?”

“Really.” His goofy little grin is so freaking cute Stiles has to lean in and kiss it, even though he’s still trying to be mad.

“I can’t believe you let me tell you that story thinking you didn’t know!”

“I wanted to hear it from your perspective,” he says, still smiling, clearly loving the look of indignation on Stiles’ face. “Besides, I think it’s adorable that you thought you had gotten away with it.”

“You’re the worst,” Stiles says. “The absolute worst.”

“Well, if you already think that, I guess I won’t tell you the rest.” Stiles is pretty sure his eyes bulge out at that.

“There’s more? More to this tale of woe that I will never live down? God, did you tell Scott? Isaac? Chris? Please tell me you didn’t tell _my dad._ ” There’s a slight sound of desperation in his voice as he thinks of all the horrifying possibilities.

“Stiles, of course I didn’t tell anyone. I just…I may have…done it on purpose.”

He’s confused again. “Explain, Sexywolf, or no Stiles Stilinski Masturbatory Story Hour ever again.”

Derek laughs into his pillow. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“Derek.”

“Okay, fine.” He rolls his eyes in mock exasperation, like he’s not _dying_ to tell him. “Scott texted to tell me what was going on, and that you were alone at the house waiting for your dad. It was back when we couldn’t be in the same room together without bickering and driving everyone crazy, remember?”

“No, Derek. I don’t remember anything _at all_ about the _years_ I spent pretending to hate you because I was hopelessly attracted to you and in love with you. Please, tell me more.” Frustration makes him sarcastic, okay?

“Well, asshole, Scott was trying to get us to be friends. He wanted me to go talk to you, see if we could patch things up or something.” 

“But instead of talking to me, you decided to put on a little workout-striptease to fuck with me? To see what I would do?”

Derek shrugs. “It seemed easier than talking to you.”

“You’re worse than the worst, you know that? You’re a menace. An actual menace.”

Derek just smiles sweetly, entirely too proud of himself. “I got off too, you know. After listening to you. I went upstairs and came in a minute. I could smell your come."

“Jesus, Derek,” Stiles says, cock stirring at the thought. “That’s so fucking hot.” Derek just sighs and scoots closer, notching his forearm into the shallow curve of Stiles’ waist and kissing him softly on the mouth. “But still not fair,” Stiles says, remembering that he’s supposed to be annoyed. “Do you know how long it took me to scrub come off the inside of the goddamn cruiser door?” he grumbles, wincing at the memory.

Derek just laughs.

**~*~**

They’re almost asleep when Derek speaks again.

“You didn’t get it all, you know. I could smell it in there the next time your dad arrested me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi [on tumblr](http://deleted-scenes.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
